


a don't-know-what-they're-missing kind of love

by keylimedye (mozartkugel)



Category: AFTER LIFE 소원을 담는 만화경 | AFTER LIFE: The Sacred Kaleidoscope (Visual Novel)
Genre: Gender Neutral Manager, Multi, whew this is my first fic in a while forgive my rustiness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:13:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26281714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mozartkugel/pseuds/keylimedye
Summary: A collection of Afterl!fe oneshots from my reader-insert Tumblr. Feel free to send in a request atkeylimedye!More characters will be tagged as I write.
Relationships: Ghilley/Manager (AFTER LIFE: The Sacred Kaleidoscope), Manager/Noah (AFTER LIFE: The Sacred Kaleidoscope), Manager/Theo (AFTER LIFE: The Sacred Kaleidoscope), Manager/Verine (AFTER LIFE: The Sacred Kaleidoscope), Manager/Youssef (AFTER LIFE: The Sacred Kaleidoscope)
Kudos: 36





	1. Youssef/Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Youssef/reader - "i thought you were dead" kiss

It was like the world went into slow motion, as the vengeful spirit made to lash out at you, only to strike Youssef, who had leapt into the spirit’s path, instead. You screamed, running to Youssef, your own weapon raised, only to be stopped by Nine.

“I’ll handle this. Make sure nothing happens to Youssef.” You nodded in understanding, turning away from Nine and kneeling at the place where Youssef had fallen.

You barely paid attention to Nine, his slow, soothing voice fading into background noise as he tried to calm down the raging spirit. No, there was only Youssef, who had gone extremely pale and still. Shielding him as best you could, you unsheathed the dagger you kept strapped to your leg, in case any other enemies drew near.

Luckily, the dagger proved unnecessary. Nine was effective at diffusing the vengeful spirit’s anger, and soon enough, you watched a bright blue butterfly fluttering, before being deftly caught in Nine’s kaleidoscope.

“Nine...we need to get him back to the department,” you called out to the reaper, and he nodded solemnly.

“I’ll help you carry him.”

The next few hours passed by in a blur, and before you knew it, you were sitting in the infirmary, beside a still pale, but gently breathing Youssef. He was asleep, and really, you should have been as well, but you found that worry kept you firmly in the land of the waking, despite the nurse’s assurances that he was in stable condition and would make a full recovery.

If you had been paying less attention, you would have missed his initial stirring. However, ever since the battle, Youssef had been the only thing on your mind, and you immediately perked up at the movements, almost flying to his side as you saw his eyes slowly open up. As soon as he seeed more alert, his eyes adjusting to the darkness of the almost-empty infirmary, you pressed countless kisses, first to his temples, then his cheeks, then finally, a softer, more hesitant one to his lips.

“Darling, dear, what’s all this for?”

“I thought you were dead,” you said, your voice barely a whisper. You pressed your face into his chest, not caring that the tears starting to prick at the corners of your eyes would soon wet his shirt.

“You think I’m that easy to get rid of?” When you don’t laugh, he chuckled apologetically. “I’m sorry, dear. I’ll try not to scare you like that again.”

“I don’t think you have control over that,” you murmured, your voice muffled. Now that you had seen for yourself that Youssef was alive and well, a deep sense of tiredness suddenly overtook you, and you let out a deep sigh.

Sensing your exhaustion, Youssef shifted sideways, giving you room to climb into the tiny infirmary bed. It was a tight fit, and perhaps on any other occasion, you would have wanted more space, but you tucked yourself into his arms anyway, nestling into his warmth.

The next morning, you would be extremely stiff and sore - neither humans nor reapers were meant to hold that position for long - but for now, you were content to finally drift to sleep, listening to Youssef’s heartbeat, as his breathing too evened out.


	2. Theo/Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theo/reader - 'at first i was unsure' kiss turning into 'i want more' kiss

You’re one of those rare people he meets and connects with _immediately_ \- a kindred spirit, a soul mate if he wants to risk sounding absolutely embarrassing. These are the thoughts reserved only for his journal, never to see the light of day. He likes your lighthearted playfulness, your optimism, the way you can pull him out of one of his spirals by reframing his thoughts into a new light. You’re special to him, in ways that he tries not to think about too much.

And as much as Theo is confident that you see him in the same way, he can’t help the pang of jealousy whenever he sees you laughing animatedly with Housemaster Sei or deep in conversation with Ethan about the finer points of brewing coffee. He isn’t ashamed to say, that he had briefly entertained the notion of doing a deep dive into artisanal coffee preparation. 

But no, you would see right through it. You wouldn’t even be mad, you’d simply laugh gently, shaking your head.

“You don’t have to get into something just because I’m interested. I like that you’re different from me. Variety is the spice of life, right?”

So he did not get into artisanal coffee preparation. Unfortunate really, because he’s pretty sure he would make an _excellent_ barista. Perhaps not so much on the customer service front, but his coffee would taste absolutely divine.

Theoretically, of course.

It happens in the library, later in the evening when most of the reapers have retired to their rooms for the night. Your nose is deep in a fantasy novel, while he’s barely paying attention to the poetry collection in his hands. The way your shoulder leans against his is far too distracting; Walt Whitman doesn’t stand a chance. 

Curious as to where you are in your novel, he chances a glance in your direction, only to be met with your face, far, _far_ too close to his.

“What’s on your mind, Theo?”

“N-nothing. I’m fine.”

You don’t move your face away, you should have moved your face away by now, why weren’t you moving your face away? (Deep in his heart, he knows why. He’s not completely socially inept after all, but he really can’t be blamed for the sheer _disbelief._ )

He hesitates. Kissing you, as is his instinct, would throw your relationship down an unknown path, one that he is unable to predict the outcome of. Was he ready to take that leap? But if not now, then when? As usual, his train of thought is interrupted by you, after several impatient minutes, pressing your lips to his.

It’s not a good kiss. In fact, he refuses to even dignify it by calling it a kiss.

It’s more a whisper of one, the LaCroix of kisses, barely there before disappearing into nothingness. 

“Sorry Theo, I guess misread your body language. I’m fine with forgetting about it if--”

He barely hears you over the blood rushing in his ears, and he’s sure his face must be frozen into a hilariously shocked expression. Only for a moment though, before he tilts your head up and closes the gap once more.

This time, both of you are prepared, your hands sliding up to his shoulders and gripping the back of his shirt. Where was he supposed to put his hands? Should he try to tilt his head? _Is tongue okay?_

His questions are answered when you shift closer, your hands making their way into his hair, holding him in place as you tilt your head for a better angle. His hands naturally find purchase on your waist, and he finds himself being tipped backwards, so that he’s lying on his back on the couch as you climb on top of him.

He must have died (again) and gone to heaven this time. Not even in his wildest dreams has he imagined himself in this position with you, and he’s too far gone to silence the small noises escaping from him.

“Stop thinking so much, Theo,” you murmur. But perhaps you realise that you’re not completely in private, and perhaps you realise the compromising situation you’re in, because you slowly sit up, panting slightly.

Though one thing is clear: both you and Theo want _more._

“Maybe we should take this...to my room?” You phrase your sentence as a question.

He can’t deny that there’s a certain appeal to having someone walk into the library and see you kissing him - sending the message to anyone and everyone that you’re his. Not that most of the other Soul Reapers particularly frequent the library, but maybe Youssef, unable to sleep and looking for something to take his mind off his burdens, or even Nine, seeking a peaceful reprieve from his chaotic roommates. However, the merits of privacy and discretion are not unknown to him. And such activities are best kept behind closed doors anyway, until both parties have figured out the intricacies of such a new development.

“Yes,” he breathes out.

He shuffles after you through the quiet halls of the department, emboldened so far as to wrap his arms around you, until you reach the door to your quarters. It takes you a moment, fumbling in your pockets for the keys, but soon enough, Theo finds himself pressed against the door inside your room, your hands in his hair, your tongue gently pressing into his mouth.

“Now, where were we?”


	3. Youssef/Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Youssef/reader - ‘let’s run away together’ kiss

“That doesn’t even make sense! How could the courts rule in that corporation’s favour? It’s obvious they knew that they were doing something illegal.”

“You can get away with anything if you have enough money,” Youssef replies simply. “Unfortunately, this case sets the precedent for similar cases, which future lawyers can use in favour of corporate clients.”

You cringe, thinking of the harm that the result of the case could inflict.

“At least when I begin my practice, I’ll be able to use my understanding of the law to help those at a disadvantage,” he continues, his brow furrowed. “So this next case turned out better…”

You nod absently as he continues explaining the case briefing, your attention focused primarily on a reading your professor had assigned. Your study sessions with Youssef frequently go like this: You work on your readings and assignments while Youssef reads and explains his case briefings out loud to you, in language that you can understand. He says this helps him understand the cases himself, and you enjoy the sound of his voice, so who are you to protest? Occasionally, you ask him to explain an unfamiliar concept or term.

This results in the both of you making decent headway into your schoolwork, while also getting the opportunity to spend time together. Of course, some study sessions are more productive than others.

You’re checking your calendar to make sure your next group project meeting does not conflict with any other classes when you hear a thud and a groan coming from his direction. A glance in his direction reveals that he has planted his head face-down on the table in despair.

“Having fun, Youssef?”

He groans again. “Can we just run away together? Leave society behind, start a farm, you know. And I’d no longer have to worry about the evils of criminal law.”

You stand up from your seat and make your way beside him. He lifts his head from the table, only to press it into your torso, taking your hand and placing it atop his head. Ah. Head scritches. Of course. You oblige him, and he lets out a content sound, almost like a purr.

“All right, I think it’s time for you to stop studying and go to bed.”

“No listen, we should run away and live on a farm together. Raise cows and pigs. It’ll be great.”

At this, you bend down, kissing the top of his head while you ruffle his hair. “Yeah, and one day, I’ll get so sick of you rambling about case briefs that I’ll murder you in cold blood and throw you to the pigs.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Like in Tiger King.”

You nod. “Exactly like Tiger King. But Pig King doesn’t have quite the same ring to it,” you muse.

He pauses for a moment, possibly thinking of alternatives to Pig King. “You won’t feed me to the pigs,” he says after a while. “You like me too much.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that, Youssef,” you reply. “

“You won’t. I’d like to see you try. You’d feel bad about it immediately and jump into the pig pen to save me. And then the pigs would eat both of us.”

 _“Bed,”_ is your answer, more firmly this time, tugging yourself away from his grip. He clings to you as you make your way to the bedroom, much slower than usual due to the Youssef-sized dead weight dragging behind you. At least the Youssef-sized dead weight pressed the occasional kiss to your neck and shoulders as you tried to walk, a payment for your efforts.

It’s not until both of you have settled into bed, one of Youssef’s arms resting over your waist, that you speak up again. 

“Running away and living on a farm with you would be nice,” you admit sleepily. 

“See? I’m full of good ideas,” he replies, kissing the back of your head. “You should listen to me more often.”

“Sure, Youssef.”


	4. Noah/Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noah/reader - 'comfort' kiss

The nature of being a Soul Reaper is inherently tragic, especially if you belong to the 14th Department, whose current generation of Reapers seems to trend worryingly young. Twenty lives cut short so abruptly -- you try not to think about it too hard, or else you would be seized frozen by the tragedy of it all.

Besides, there is no point in dwelling on a past that isn’t yours, for the Reapers still exist, full of hope and life, determined to fill their kaleidoscopes and return to the Human World, to their families, their friends, their loved ones.

Just because you have made your peace with it however, doesn’t mean that others have. The words are spoken to you in the quiet of the night, when you and Noah have slipped out into the courtyard, away from prying ears and nosy roommates.

“Sometimes I just can’t stop thinking about it -- you and I aren’t even that old, but some of the others are literal children,” Noah says, staring intently at the moon. Your arm is wrapped securely around him, and you pull him closer to wrap the blanket more tightly around the both of you. There’s a crisp chill to the air, one that had been absent only a week before, signalling the end of summer and that the days of warmth are numbered.

“Like Kati,” he continues. “I know he puts on a strong front, but you haven’t heard his muffled crying late at night, after he thinks I’ve fallen asleep. He hasn’t even graduated high school. How long has it been since he’s last seen his family? He’s only sixteen, how can he _cope_ with that?”

He pauses, thinking whether or not he should say the next words. “I’m sorry I’m being such a downer tonight. I know you didn’t ask for me to dump all of this on you.”

“No, no, it’s all right, Noah. I want you to be able to come to me whenever you’re feeling badly. Thank you for trusting me.” You use your free hand to take hold of one of his, intertwining your fingers together.

“Honestly, I’m in a constant state of worrying about all of you. Everyone in this department has their own demons, but I believe we’re all stronger than we think we are. And that includes Kati, even as young as he is.” Turning your face to look at him, you study his face closely for a moment before leaning in and pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I’m glad that you’re this concerned about Kati. It’s nice to know that he has someone on his side, someone like you, Noah, looking out for him.”

He laughs quietly, more of a short exhalation of air than anything else. “I know he’d rather I stay out of his business, but, of course I have to look out for him. I feel like it’s a duty. Thanks for listening to that.” He leans in and returns your kiss, on the lips this time, warm and sweet.

“Of course, Noah. Anytime.”


	5. Ghilley/Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghilley/reader - 'comfort' kiss

Sometimes, Ghilley gets into these moods, periods where he suddenly becomes closed off, spending long periods of time alone, lost in his thoughts and refusing to communicate with anyone else. In the olden days, they would have called it melancholia. Modern sensibilities have termed it “depressive episodes.” After being with him for so long, you have sinced learned that the best thing to do for Ghilley is simply, nothing. All you can do is give him the space he needs to sort himself out. Be patient, and he’ll make his way back to you eventually.

Still, you aren’t a saint and such periods take a toll on you as well. The stress of worrying about the Reaper, feeling generally useless, and wishing you could do more to help him compound upon themselves and manifest directly in your own self-doubt and insecurity. Then comes guilt, knowing that however you may feel, Ghilley is likely suffering so much more than you, and that you are weak and selfish to think of yourself during his time of need.

Your insecurities come to light in the aftermath of one such period, an abnormally long one that brought to the surface all your doubts and fears: that one day, Ghilley will realise that your presence is not enough to fix him and that when he realises this, he will grow disappointed or resentful and leave you. After all, he had lived for so long and had seen so much. How could you even hope to begin to understand him?

Your breakdown starts with one of Ghilley’s pranks. Like clockwork, he will play a trick of some sort on you, to signal the end of his self-imposed exile. this time, it is sneaking up behind you with cold, wet hands that had been submerged in ice water and placing them on your neck.

While it elicits a satisfying enough shriek from you, Ghilley quickly notes how quickly the light fades from your eyes, your usual welcoming smile much smaller and more strained than he remembers.

“What’s wrong, my exalted one?” His teasing tone conceals an undercurrent of worry. Had he overstepped his bounds? Asked too much of you and returned too little, that this silly prank was the last straw? Would you finally realise that this sad, tragic Soul Reaper isn’t worth your time, worth your care?

“Oh, it’s nothing,” you reply, your voice artificially bright. “I’m glad to have you back, Ghilley.” You can feel the pinpricks of tears at the corners of your eyes, so you quickly make an excuse, that the Lead Manager has assigned an errand for you, and leave the room.

That’s it. Something is definitely wrong, and he will get to the bottom of it.

It turns out, he does not have to do very much, since the next time he sees you, one of those times when he silently slips into your office unnoticed, you’re crying into a pile of tissues at your desk. Honestly, it’s a little embarrassing for him, having to reveal his presence when you’re in such a vulnerable state. But...better to get this over with sooner rather than later, so with a flourish, he steps out of the shadows and calls your name.

You jolt, head turning in his direction as you hurriedly wipe away your tears and attempt to make yourself look presentable. 

He steps to embrace you from behind, bending down to rest his chin on your shoulder. “Do you want to tell me what’s wrong now, my sweet?”

You sigh, obviously caught, and without much of a choice, you tell him everything. To his credit, he listens intently without interrupting, only the occasional nod to encourage you to continue.

“You know, you frightened me. I thought I was too much for you and you were going to leave me.”

“That’s not the problem,” you reply, sniffling and trying to blink back your tears. “I just hate that I can’t understand you. When you spend so long without talking to me at all, I feel so useless, because I know you’re suffering and can’t do anything about it.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was affecting you like this. I’m still not used to relying on others, you know, you already do so much for me, more than I can express with human language. I…” He realises that he is starting to make excuses and instead, he trails off, lost for words.

“Is it okay if I kiss you?” he murmurs quietly, only audible due to the proximity of your faces to each other. After you nod, he swivels your chair around so that you face him and leans in to press his lips to yours, hoping, praying that this will express even a fraction of how deeply he cares for you, how grateful he is that he has you in his life.

Even as you return the kiss with just as much passion and fervour, he knows in his heart that this isn’t enough, that your problems haven’t been magically solved, that this conversation is only the beginning of the two of you learning how to care for one another. But somehow, he is more confident, more optimistic than before. The two of you won’t give up on each other so easily, he thinks as he breaks away, only to pull you up from the chair and steal another kiss from you.


	6. Verine/Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Verine/reader - "i thought you were dead" kiss

Verine is a capable Soul Reaper. You know this. Despite his frail constitution, he is skilled at wielding his whip, surprisingly agile, and possesses the emotional intelligence to calm down any raging vengeful spirit. You also knew that if he knew how much you fretted whenever he was on a mission, he would resent it, believing that you thought him not as competent as his comrades. 

Still, missions are dangerous, regardless of Verine’s ability, and when his team does not come back through the portal at the expected time, you feel a deep, dark knot of dread well up in the pit of your stomach. The knot only tightens as not one, not two, but three days pass by with no sign of return.

Nyang Lead Manager, more perceptive and kinder than he lets on, doesn’t scream, doesn’t reprimand you, when he finds you resting facedown on your desk, your paperwork barely half-finished. Instead, his nose twitches as he tells you, “There’s no use worrying about things you can’t control.” His tone is noticeably more subdued than usual, as if he is reassuring himself more than you.

It’s Cyrille who alerts you to their return, as he’s the one who spends the most time around the portal. You hear his thundering footsteps towards your office, before he appears in the doorway, leaning against the frame as he struggles to catch his breath, unused to the physical exertion. He had run all the way from the portal room to your office.

“Manager, they’re back!”

You barely wait for Cyrille to finish his sentence before you bolt out the door, brushing past him and sprinting down the hallway, back the way he had come from. You run into the returning Reapers in the hallway, as they make their way back to the dorms.

“Verine!”

You can’t help but yell his name the moment you catch sight of his distant figure, almost knocking him over as you fling yourself into his arms. Thankfully, you’re able to stop your momentum enough, for if it had been up to Verine’s strength alone, the both of you would have ended up in a heap on the floor. Overcome with joy, you forget that you aren’t alone in the hallway and give him a short, but passionate kiss. He reciprocates quickly, and what was meant to be one kiss turns into another, and another, as Verine opens his mouth slightly to invite your tongue to swipe against his lips.

You don’t even care about the disgusted “Ugh!” from Quincy, who quickly and loudly stomps off after voicing his displeasure at having to be subjected to such a corny, nauseating sight. For once, Verine pays him no mind either - he’s simply too happy to finally be _home_.

You finally break apart, though you still hold him tightly against your body. “I thought you were dead,” you say quietly, looking down.

“I’m sorry. A lot of things went wrong that we didn’t expect, and our communicators were destroyed. There was no way to repair them, no way to get word back to the Department,” he replies, genuine remorse on his face.

You nod in understanding, still not letting go of Verine.

“You should be resting,” you say suddenly.

“I’m fine,” he protests, but then yawns immediately after, betraying his true state of exhaustion. “Or...maybe not. But you should join me. You look tired too, and…” he trails off, hesitating with his next words.

“I’ve missed you,” he says finally.

Your mind flickers back to the pile of paperwork waiting for you on your desk, but quickly dismiss it. For now, making up for lost time with your loved one is your topmost priority.

“All right,” you agree. “Will you tell me about your mission? I want to hear everything.”

“Of course,” he says, taking your hand. “Your room? I don’t want to force Quincy to watch us snuggle, and we’ll never hear the end of it either.”

“Yeah,” you reply, your face breaking into a smile, the first one since Verine had left. “Let’s go.”


End file.
